


Fucking NG Codes

by flightofangels



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fisting, NG Codes, Rule 63, Spooning, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightofangels/pseuds/flightofangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakakura tries to give Munakata a break from the stress of the Final Killing Game once the two of them are alone together and safe. Emphasis on "tries".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking NG Codes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellenthewitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellenthewitch/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to Electra (ellenthewitch). She inspired the entire story, and she was very supportive during the creative process. [JinjoJess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jinjojess) was my excellent beta and Cool Mature Friend. I'd also like to credit [Komaesa](http://komaesa.tumblr.com) for her theories about NG Codes as well as general insight into characterization.
> 
> This takes place in a rule 63 universe; Sakakura and Munakata are women with different given names, Yukizome is a man, Naegi Makoto is a woman, and so on. The timeline is around mirai-hen episode 4. Some time after the events of episode 3, sleeping gas is released again. Neither Munakata nor Sakakura is murdered; upon waking, they rendezvous. The text contains no direct spoilers for mirai-hen episode 3. There is an allusion to themes from zetsubou-hen episode 3, however, and there are also spoilers for events in mirai-hen episodes 1 and 2.
> 
> There are a few violent themes, most notably a brief mention of past eye trauma, nothing worse than canon.

Sakakura lifted up the couch and braced it against the door. “There,” she said, and dusted off her hands with a flourish. “Nobody should be bothering us any time soon.”

“The adjoining room doesn’t have any exits either, and the vents are small,” said Munakata as she walked back to stand at Sakakura’s side.

They had discovered the waiting room while wandering the maze of hallways to evade the other players. It had been slow going, since Munakata would conspicuously hang back from each closed door they passed until Sakakura cautiously took the lead and peered inside. They discussed strategy as they went. The two women agreed to barricade themselves into a room as soon as possible. More distance from the other players would be nice, but they didn't want to take the unnecessary risk of letting the timer interrupt their travel. This room suited their purposes perfectly, given that it led nowhere but a sealed off examination room with a vision chart hanging on the wall.

The waiting room was likewise sparsely furnished, with little furniture besides a small table stocked with magazines and two couches, one of which was on the floor and the other now barricading the door. The television mounted on the wall, which had once displayed soothing live footage of swimming fish, had been remodeled to match the ubiquitous Monokuma décor.

Munakata sat down on the couch. She folded her hands in her lap and tilted her wrist so the timer on her bracelet would be in view. “We actually have over half an hour until the next scheduled exposure to sleeping gas.” They had already barricaded themselves, though. The discussion of strategy en route to this location had made them confident that a more distant destination wouldn’t be productive.

Sakakura planted her hand by the wall near Munakata’s head, making a satisfying “don” noise with the impact. “I’m so goddamn glad that we could get some alone time.”

Munakata looked up into Sakakura’s eyes and smiled. It was the first time that Sakakura could remember her doing so since Yukizome’s death. Unlike the school life of mutual killing that Naegi and her friends had enjoyed, this game had been constantly stressful, not even in action for twenty-four hours and already the game had gone through so many turns.

The current lighting technician had no respect for the work that had gone into fluorescents carefully imitating the rhythms of the sun before it had been dimmed by despairing pollution. Anybody who kept to a strict schedule, such as a trained athlete or an organization leader, would go crazy in this environment before long.

Sakakura would be happy to relieve some of Munakata’s stress as well as her own. Judging by the downward tug on the lapels of Sakakura’s coat, Munakata felt very similarly. Good, Sakakura thought as she lowered herself to straddle Munakata’s lap. She was such a good leader, respectful towards her subordinate, and Sakakura would do her best to hold up the other end of the bargain.

The coat slid down from Sakakura’s shoulders fairly easily once she let her arms hang at her sides, one advantage to wearing the coat open. It wasn’t all that cold indoors anyway. Once she tugged her left arm free from where the bracelet was getting caught in the sleeve, Sakakura could easily put her hands onto Munakata’s chest. She could unbutton that sharp white jacket blind, after months of practicing in the wake of tear gas, and so she did so, closing her eyes and kissing Munakata on the mouth, pressing repeatedly.

“You’ve kept in shape,” Munakata said appreciatively as she glanced down to follow the progress of her own hand reaching underneath Sakakura’s thick white T-shirt. Since the careers of these two women took them all over Japan, this conference to take care of Naegi Makoto had actually been the first time they’d been together in several days.

“I had a lot of people to punch,” said Sakakura, smirking.

Munakata licked her lips, and Sakakura made the executive decision to tell her about those exploits later. She felt Munakata’s hand on her breast, after all. There was no ignoring it. Munakata knew from so much experience that Sakakura had received enough injuries to long for firm yet not abrasive pressure, and therefore pushed the pads of her fingers hard against the soft surrounding skin. The nipple rubbed against her cupped hand.

“You feel so good… Kyome…” The given name came out her mouth roughly. “Same as ever.”

“I do my best to keep all the relevant factors in mind,” said Munakata. Her shortened breath somewhat dampened her proud tone. Though she probably longed to close the distance between them, she had been undoing the knot of her tie with one hand. Until now. She draped the tie over the back of the couch and let her other hand also touch Sakakura’s torso, her lips pursing with the effort of mentally mapping the best course.

Sakakura saw this as a good opportunity to kiss her more seriously – lips parted and she whispered, “deeper”, and Munakata let out an affirmative gasp – enjoining their tongues, connecting them more deeply. Her knees pressed against Munakata’s thighs. She liked protecting Munakata this way, forming her own body into a tower over her queen. When standing normally, they were almost the same height, of course. One of the many things that always made Munakata stand out.

By the time that Sakakura finished unbuttoning Munakata’s blouse and reached underneath her bra, she found nipples hard and distinct against the surface of her thumbs. Munakata was making her kisses less precise, liberally mouthing along cheek and jawline.

Finally the seal of their lips broke again and they stayed apart for a longer beat, both desperate for breath. Sakakura stared at Munakata with frantic devotion. Munakata’s face was so flushed, a deep red that nobody saw in public. Quite suddenly Sakakura felt her heart leap with the realization that today could be the last time she ever saw this shade of red. She had lived with such a risk every day for the past few years, of course. The precautions that they could take were just usually different, and there were longer intervals between private moments and immediate danger. Outdoors they would wear gas masks and bulletproof vests, travelling in armored vehicles; indoors they would wait to hold hands until they walked into a fortified steel bunker with alarms that would trip when attackers were on their way. So they had never needed to think about death quite like this, having sex “for the last time”, falling asleep feeling safe and waking up with a corpse on the other side of the bed.

On the other hand, Sakakura hadn’t even been a teenager when she’d decided to spend the rest of her days slinging her fists at people putting them at serious risk of concussion. She left that championship belt behind without regrets, knowing full well that her security position could easily escalate into a situation where she should be ready to lay down her life for Munakata instead. Sakakura had chosen that abstract threat, and even though shit had gotten real in this game, she hadn’t changed her mind about what hope meant.

She leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

Munakata reached out for the hand touching her left breast and lifted it up to her lips. She kissed each knuckle, pressed the tip of her tongue to the cracks between the fingers. This was the easiest way to check for any little scrapes that would render their activities more dangerous. Sakakura loved the way that tongue of hers felt, so Munakata had taken to playing this up into a little ritual, even though their private time was usually planned out far enough in advance that Sakakura could preemptively keep an eye out for anything too serious.

Finally Munakata reached the thumb and allowed herself to rest her cheek in the palm of Sakakura’s hand. Though her lipstick was beyond repair, Munakata still had heavy lining around her eyes, amplifying her naturally intense gaze.

“Jumi… I’m ready for you.”

In the interval after those words, neither of them breathed, leaving no noise in the room except an electrical hum, the kind that Sakakura heard more acutely than either of her best friends, and that was when she remembered something very important.

“Wait,” she said.

“What?” asked Munakata, who was already shifting her legs, though Sakakura was still straddling her and therefore getting very uncomfortable.

“Listen,” said Sakakura quickly, because she realized that she’d gotten her leader into an understandable panic given how ready for interruptions women in their line of work had to be. “We’re safe, I didn’t hear danger or anything, and I still really wanna fuck you.” She furrowed her brow. “There’s just this one other problem.”

“I am listening,” said Munakata, much more icy now that it had been established they would definitely have sex and yet they were still not currently having sex.

Sakakura actually felt a brief surge of shame, mortification over raising a false alarm combined with the absurdity in the true nature of the concern she was about to raise. In spite of asking Munakata to listen, she couldn’t speak in the moment, and so she averted her eyes as she lifted up her other hand to reveal the red letters on her bracelet.

“TOUCHING OTHERS WITH FISTS”

Munakata jerked her head back up to face Sakakura. “Are you – are you serious?” she snapped.

Her inflection made it obvious that she blamed their captors and not Sakakura herself. The whole situation was so ridiculous. They had run through the hallways of what appeared to be their headquarters, but was actually a replica or at least a redecorated version covered in decals of the world’s worst cartoon teddy bear. And just now Sakakura had come literally a finger’s width away from dying because of a tacky bracelet. With brief guilt, she thought about the proof that these codes were serious business: Bandai. That did not look like a pretty way to die.

Sakakura stood up, to give her angry leader some space. Munakata was exhaling heavily through gritted teeth and stroking the hilt of her katana, which she had rested against the arm of the couch before sitting down. “It’s a good thing that my NG code isn’t slicing and stabbing Monokuma repeatedly,” she said, without looking to Sakakura for backtalk.

During the ensuing silence, Sakakura began to suspect that Munakata was literally counting to ten. She finally stood up and took another deep breath. “Would you take a seat?”

“Okay,” said Sakakura, as she complied with the order, though she wasn’t quite sure yet why this was wanted. Munakata paced for a little while longer, clicking her high heels along the floor, little huffs kept escaping from her clamped lips. The last of the lipstick was smeared out now.

“I’m _not_ going on some kind of rampage,” she said to herself with exactly enough harshness for it to be completely obvious that she would currently like nothing more than going on some kind of rampage, even more than sex, which was no surprise to Sakakura. “There’s no point in leaving right now. We already went over this. And I don’t want to make a commotion that’ll attract attention.” She flung her arm towards the door, still clearly not calm. “I don’t think I can relax enough to get off right away, though. Sorry, it’s not your fault; I still want to have you as soon as I can.” Munakata made eye contact with her. “May I eat you out first?”

“Hell yes you may,” replied Sakakura without missing a beat, smug lilt on the _may_. “Hey, I’m sorry about this too. I shouldn’t have started all this without—”

She made a vague gesture with both her arms and then spread them out on the back of the couch, which was very suggestive given that Munakata couldn’t afford to have her hair mussed. “C’mere,” Sakakura said with lidded eyes, and Munakata knelt in front of the couch, put her hands on Sakakura’s thighs close to the fastenings of her pants.

She kept looking and didn’t reach up. After several seconds, Sakakura asked vaguely, “Kyome?” She was a little concerned. Munakata not being up for it would be completely fine; they’d had some fun already, anyway. Sakakura just didn’t expect such a sudden one-eighty.

Munakata closed her eyes, probably thought about her life and her choices, and lifted up her left wrist. “Take a look,” she said in a low voice.

Sakakura had to pull her hand a little closer so she could see the whole phrase. Feeling their skin rub together tenderly, Munakata intertwined her fingers with those of Sakakura’s right hand.

“OPENING OBJECTS”

Sakakura’s first thought was that this was a ridiculously broad code. She had assumed it would just say “opening doors”, a range more similar to “running in the hallway”. Then she realized the way that Munakata had chosen to interpret this code and started laughing.

“Seriously? You’re worried about that?”

“I am willing to die in the name of hope,” grumbled Munakata, indignant and fucking adorable. “I’m not dying recklessly in the pursuit of your orgasm. Please take off your pants and spread your legs.”

When she put it like that, Sakakura felt her throat run die, and her laughter died down. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said. She tugged her pants and underwear down from her hips, untucked the hems of her pants from her boots, and slid her clothing entirely down onto the floor. With her fingers she parted her labia, just in case Munakata hesitated about that opening too.

Munakata leaned in, and kissed her fingertips, and then started licking lines between her legs. Sakakura dug her nails into the fabric of the couch and tried very hard to not start begging. Munakata was so methodical, pressing kisses onto the sweaty creases of skin where thigh muscle gave way to hip joint. Sakakura shifted her pelvis forward. The backs of her heels hit the couch, and then Munakata extended the entire length of her tongue along Sakakura’s vulva.

“God damn…” Sakakura shut her eyes. Munakata kept running her mouth up and down, getting wetter and gradually increasing her flexibility to capture parts between her lips. By the time that Munakata worked up to tuck Sakakura’s clit underneath the inside of her upper lip, Sakakura was going crazy. Not able to focus on the feeling in her fingers anymore, Sakakura lost her grip on the other woman’s hand. She whispered her name: “Kyome.” And then, overwhelmed with the feeling as her hips bucked forward and Munakata met her in the middle, she let out all her breath at once in a louder curse. “Fuck! Kyome!”

Munakata reached up to put both her hands around Sakakura’s waist; her hands felt cool against Sakakura’s burning skin. Munakata had no mercy left, circling the tip of her tongue all around Sakakura’s clit, sucking at all the surrounding skin. Teeth clacked in her mouth as Sakakura came, moaning without forming words. Munakata kept her mouth right where it was, tapering off slowly, because she was a national treasure.

“Come here,” Sakakura said. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t hold the fondness out of her voice; she had to hold her right away.

Munakata drew her arms behind her back and stood, demonstrating superb balance, a vision of excellence in her bra and skirt and heels. She looked down at Sakakura through weighted eyelashes and kissed her gently with an open mouth. That was a cue for Sakakura to plunge her own tongue forward, stimulate all the muscles that Munakata had made soft and achy with effort. She put both her hands on Munakata’s neck and held her in place to kiss her as deeply as possible.

They could only stay in that position so long. Sakakura nudged with thumbs at her jawbone and got her to pull away. “I sort of was thinking—” Sakakura interrupted herself and glanced at the arm of the couch where the katana had been set down and revised her meaning even more. She dragged her ass down to the middle couch cushion and then lay down with her head on the other arm of the couch. “Do you want to go at it from the top, like this?”

Munakata placed her hands on the fabric above each of Sakakura’s shoulders. Instead of looking at her protector, her eyes tracked the course of her movements through the unfamiliar area, very carefully. “I want to have that very much. Just as long as you’re comfortable in this…” A speck of dust floated out from the back of the couch, and Munakata wrinkled her nose. “Space,” she concluded, a born diplomat.

“Hey.” Sakakura showed her teeth; she had to defend her reputation in the eyes of the only woman whose opinion mattered. “I haven’t just been hitting sandbags or scumbags, I’ve kept up with my weight shifting too.”

She arched her back off the couch to expose her hips. Munakata nodded and hooked her arms underneath Sakakura’s armpits to loop a good grip around her shoulders. She glanced down at the floor afterwards and didn’t move her legs. Sakakura rolled her eyes. She reached under Munakata’s skirt to grab at her pantyhose and tugged those down along with her panties. Sakakura ran her hands along Munakata’s crotch and felt slickness all along the side of her finger. She hadn’t been kidding about being ready for her fists, had she.

A high pitched noise from Munakata suggested that she was still ready now. Sakakura pulled apart her thighs and couldn’t help smiling. She loved moving other people’s bodies around and had a hard time breaking the habit after their line of work had made Munakata wary of surprises, so Sakakura felt especially happy whenever she was trusted enough to make these little gestures. She wanted to please Munakata as soon as possible; she pressed the toe of her boot between Munakata’s knees, and Munakata lowered herself to straddle Sakakura’s leg, while her own clothing pooled at her ankles.

Sakakura placed her hands on Munakata’s back, and smiled at her, and Munakata kissed her. They fit together, their mouths and their chests and also their legs once Sakakura bent her knee enough to hike up Munakata’s skirt. Munakata barely moved at first, focused on small vibrations that would spread fluid over their joined skin. Sakakura just enjoyed the reassuring bulk of the woman in her arms, smiling up at her to be encouraging when Munakata broke the kiss and opened her eyes to get a better look at their position.

When the kiss resumed, Munakata went faster. She couldn’t keep her mouth in one place, moving so much, so their lips slapped together each time she surged back up towards Sakakura. The couch cushions began to creak under the weight of their bodies. Sakakura knew she was putting the furniture under a lot of pressure each time she slid her hips down in the opposite direction of Munakata’s movement. The thrusts came harder as Munakata let her legs kick up, her calf pressed against Sakakura’s crotch, kneecap hard on her clitoris.

Electricity surged up Sakakura’s spine, big lightning bolts with each rustle of their legs; she bit her lip. “You can stop that if you want,” said Sakakura, and she rubbed a circle between Munakata’s shoulder blades. “I’m still too damn sensitive from before; I think it’ll hurt if I get off at the same time with you.”

“Okay,” Munakata said back, her breath very warm on Sakakura’s face. “That’s okay, it’s good, I’m really close. Let me just—”

She blinked repeatedly, and kissed Sakakura heavily once with closed lips, and then she was lifting herself up. One arm braced on the arm of the couch, the other on the headrest. She was riding her with reckless abandon now, at an angle that put her clitoris right against skin, up and down the entire length of Sakakura’s thigh. The cream colored necktie fell off the back of the couch.

“Jumi—stay right there… Jumi!!!”

And then Munakata was fluttering her eyelashes so quickly the mascara was flaking off. She gasped and gasped, her cheeks were red, the most beautiful woman in the world. Wails poured forth from her mouth, and her torso shivered in place. As soon as this was done, Munakata planted both of her hands on the head of the couch, and her elbows sank onto the cushions, and she kissed Sakakura. Her whole torso fell flush against Sakakura’s chest; Munakata barely had energy to support herself. Sakakura didn’t mind at all. That was what she was here for.

“You are the best,” Sakakura said, words split up by kisses to Munakata’s face, “you really are.”

“I’m so glad to have you with me,” Munakata rasped back, “I am. I am.”

They kissed and kissed until Munakata brought her wrist up into her field of view and groaned, not in the fun way. She faceplanted onto Sakakura’s chest. Sakakura looked at the bracelet and swore in her head.

“00:00:49”

“How are we supposed to put our clothes back on in that amount of time,” Munakata lamented.

Sakakura didn’t have an answer right away. Munakata drew herself back to kneel between Sakakura’s legs, where she could comfortably pull her pantyhose back up to her waist. Sakakura reached for her boyshorts on the floor, and the back of her hand brushed against the fluffy hood of her coat.

“What if we just hid under this,” she said. Munakata looked at the coat and Sakakura’s ambivalent face and then the bracelet.

“Can’t be helped,” Munakata said.

She dragged her body into the crevice between Sakakura and the couch; they turned on their sides so they could both fit, like spoons in a drawer. Sakakura put one arm around Munakata’s torso before she stretched out the other arm to reach for the coat and drape it over both of them, pointing her back at the door.

Anyone who entered this room hoping to kill Munakata would have to go through Sakakura first.


End file.
